Stalking
by LynnZD
Summary: Nick's new neighbor isn't all that she seems. Re-posted chapter one and added chapter 2!
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Set shortly after "Stalker."

Katie James didn't think lightning was supposed to strike the same spot twice. After her husband died, she didn't think she'd be able to find love again.

But here she was, celebrating her two-month anniversary with a great guy. Sitting in one of the nicest restaurants in Los Angeles, she smiled across the candlelit table at Craig, who winked back at her.

They just seemed to click. It's like he practically knew her even before they met, saying the right thing, laughing at the right jokes, knowing when to make a move and when to back off. And he was even good with Melony

Katie guessed it was about time she had some good luck in her life.

The two of them had been staring into each other's eyes all night, and Katie was beginning to think that tonight would be the night they took things a little further in their relationship. And that thought, while exciting, also scared her. It would be the first time since Pete, and only the second guy ever. And it had been so long…

Craig must have been having the same thoughts because he paid the bill in record time, standing up to leave instead of enjoying a few more minutes of conversation like usual. She took a deep breath and stood to follow him out.

They were kissing before the front door of her apartment was even closed, and Katie made a mental note to thank Julie once again for letting Melony sleep over with Jessie. Craig walked her backwards toward the bedroom as they discarded clothes along the way.

He pushed her gently down on the bed, lowering himself down along with her. His hand brushed through her hair, down her cheek, behind her ear and came to a resting position gently caressing her neck.

Craig's mouth left hers, trailing kisses across her cheekbone over to her ear, which he gently drew into his mouth. His breath was hot on her neck as he whispered to her.

"The boss says to say hi to Pete … Karen."

Her eyes went wide as his hand on her neck started squeezing.

* * *

His room was the muted green color of night-vision goggles. The only sound was the deep breathing of him sleeping and the soft murmur of Nigel Crane talking to himself up above in the attic as he watched him.

Instantly he was at the office, looking through the one-way mirror at Crane, tuning Grissom out as the older man spouted off science crap about it not being about him. He fought the urge to scream at his boss, asking him how he would feel if he switched places with the bugs he stared at under the microscope all day long.

Because that's how he felt knowing Nigel Crane had watched him – as vulnerable as an insect waiting to be squished by the person above him.

Now he was falling, falling, falling as the broken glass showered down beside him, thinking to himself how it was odd that, in the short fall, he still had time to notice the light bounce off the shards. Knowing he wouldn't be bouncing off the ground.

And then came the landing.

Nick Stokes bolted upright in bed, sweat running into his eyes, lungs trying to draw in air. He fought the tears, hating the fact that he cried so easily.

Hating the walls around him and how they seemed to be closer every day. Waiting for the day when they would completely close around him and crush him.

Nick knew he had to leave this house. He couldn't stand it anymore, but he also didn't know if he could stand the looks of his co-workers, the whispers that would stop the second he walked in, the suggestions he talk to the department shrink.

He didn't want them to think less of him. And they would, too, because after all Grissom had told him it wasn't about him.

Disgusted at himself, angry at Grissom, afraid of Nigel Crane. When would he feel like there weren't eyes watching him anymore?

He threw the bedspread away from him, stumbling out to the kitchen for a glass of water. On his way out there, he saw the still damaged ceiling, saw the cupboard under the phone where he used to keep his spare gun, and promptly threw up on the T on his carpet.

The next morning, Nick Stokes put his house up for sale.

* * *

It took longer than he would have liked to find a new place and to get his house sold. If he had been forced to stay there much longer, he would have gone insane. He couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, could barely spend any time there – and none of it was relaxing.

And he didn't want to admit how much it hurt that none of his co-workers even noticed something was wrong.

That's why he was kind of glad it had taken so long to move. Now they wouldn't jump to the conclusion, although correct, that it was about Nigel Crane. Instead they bought his explanation that he wanted something a little smaller, a little newer, a little closer to work.

Finally the time came to start moving his stuff over to the new townhouse. Nick had gotten Warrick and Greg to agree to help – although he wasn't quite sure how much help Greg would be – and was waiting for them to show up for the first trip of boxes.

Nick sat in the now unfamiliar, bare kitchen, looking around at the neatly labeled brown cartons. He felt … lighter than he had in months, but he also couldn't shake the feeling that he was running away.

Like he ran away from Texas.

The doorbell clanged its way into his thoughts, thankfully pulling him away from his depressing frame of mind. It was time to be good ol' Nick for the boys. If they couldn't tell something was wrong, then, around them, nothing would be.

Nick smirked at Warrick and Greg as they walked in, looking tired and less than enthusiastic.

"You're going to owe us big time, buddy," Warrick grumbled.

"I'll buy you a beer after."

Warrick snorted. Greg didn't even waste time talking, instead making a beeline straight for the stack of boxes. He picked one up, pivoted around and glared at the other two, daring them to make a crack about it being one of the lighter ones.

Nick and Warrick followed his lead and picked up boxes themselves. When all three of their vehicles were full, his house was almost empty and sweat ran down their backs.

"Man. All I can say is I'm glad you hired someone to move the furniture," Warrick groaned, reaching around to massage his own shoulder.

"I didn't want to push my luck with you two," Nick teased, a twinkle in his eye.

"Why are you still in such a good mood?"

_Because after today I'll never have to see that house again._ Nick just smiled and shrugged, climbed into his driver's seat and led the way out of the neighborhood.

* * *

Emma Graves sat with Jenny and Maggie on their porch, as the three woman pretended to be gossiping while actually watching the movers carrying furniture into the townhouse between theirs and Emma's.

"Wow. Just…wow," Jenny sighed, as her roommate fanned herself.

Emma snickered at the two women, thinking once again how lucky she was to have made such great friends after only a couple weeks in Vegas.

"How come I didn't have that hot of movers?"

"I know! We would have introduced ourselves so much sooner if you had!"

Emma laughed.

"I hope whoever is moving in is male and hot," Jenny snickered.

"Oh, please," Maggie said. "When are we ever that lucky?"

The three leaned forward in anticipation as two SUVs and a sedan pulled to the curb.

"Hmm. Not bad, not bad." Maggie said.

"Don't you guys feel the least bit embarrassed ogling like this?" Emma squirmed in her seat.

Jenny and Maggie both turned to stare at her, dumbfounded.

"Hon, you're talking to exotic dancers here. Turnabout's fair play."

"True, true."

"Y'know. I could take any one of them as a new neighbor."

"Hopefully it isn't two of them moving in as _roommates_, if you know what I mean."

"HA!"

"Hey, they'd still be good eye candy."

The women giggled.

They watched the next few trips between the vehicles and the townhouse in silence.

"Maybe we should go introduce ourselves."

"Oh, you are so transparent, Jenny."

"What? Like you weren't _thinking_ it!"

"It _would_ be the neighborly thing to do."

The roommates stood and each grabbed one of Emma's hands to pull her up from her chair. Jenny led the way across the green grass, calling out to the guys as they walked back toward the street.

"Hi there!"

The men turned, and Emma almost stopped dead in her tracks, in awe of the dazzling grin on the guy closest to them.

"Hi," a soft Texan drawl responded.

"Are all three of you moving in?"

"Uh, no. Just me. Nick Stokes," he held out his hand, shaking each of theirs in turn.

"Jenny Jones. This is Maggie McKinnick and Emma Graves. Maggie and I live there," Jenny pointed to their house, then toward Emma's. "And Emma and Lisa live there."

"Nice to meet you. These are two of my co-workers, Warrick Brown and Greg Sanders."

"Do you need any help?"

"Thanks, we only have a few boxes left, plus a few more back at my old place. We'll be okay."

"Alright. Let us know if you change your mind." Maggie and Emma shared a quick amused glance at the flirty lilt to Jenny's voice.

They waved as the men drove off, and Jenny turned to face her friends.

"Christmas has come early this year."

"You are such a _slut_," Maggie laughed.

Emma just shook her head at her neighbors.

"I have to go pick up Lisa from swim practice. I'll see you two later."

"See ya"

* * *

Nick didn't even look back as he walked out for the last time with the last box. He smiled at his friends, feeling completely at ease. Warrick's eyes were hard to see behind his sunglasses, but Nick felt him watching as he made his way toward them.

"Warrick and I decided we're going to be visiting you _all_ the time."

"I'd say that's nice, but I have a feeling you wouldn't be coming to see me."

"Don't know what you're talking about, man."

"Yeah. Right."

Once in his car, Nick finally risked a look back at the place he had called home for the last few years. His heart constricted almost painfully. He wasn't sad about leaving; he was scared leaving wouldn't help.

* * *

Warrick and Greg took a raincheck on the beer, electing instead to go home and relax.

Nick had been working on emptying out the boxes, relishing in the simple pleasure of figuring out where this picture frame would go or that bookcase. After a few hours he decided to take a break and went to the kitchen – of course, he had unpacked only half of those boxes so far, and, as he looked through the remaining ones, he realized they put a damper on his plans.

He put his hands on his hips, blowing out a breath in disappointment. He _really_ wanted some lemonade.

Then a startingly beautiful pair of brown eyes flashed through his memory, and he turned his head in the direction of the next door neighbor's house with an inexplicably faster beating heart.

He ran a hand through his hair, resisting the urge to change his shirt or check his appearance in the mirror. Knocking on the door, he took a deep breath. He was caught off guard when a young girl answered the door.

"Hi."

"Hi…is your mom here?"

"Yeah, just a second," the girl turned and took a few steps toward the stairs. "Mo-om!"

He watched as Emma walked out of an upstairs room to lean over the banister.

"Nick!" she smiled as she went down the stairs. "Uh, this is my daughter Lisa."

Nick smiled and held out his hand to shake the hand of the now giggling, blushing child.

"Pleased to meet you," he emphasized his drawl, quickly feeling at ease around the girl – a benefit of being an uncle so many times over.

Emma reached the door, smiled at Lisa and gently pushed her back toward the living room and Aladdin.

"Are you moving in okay?"

"Uh, yeah." Emma smiled at the blush growing on the handsome man's face. "This may sound incredibly clichéd, but…uh….can I borrow a cup of sugar?"

Emma arched an eyebrow, a smile ghosting her lips.

"I really want lemonade."

Emma finally let out a guffaw.

"I have bad news for you, Nick. I just used the last of my sugar to make Lisa some lemonade. So I can't offer you a cup of sugar. But I can offer you a cup of lemonade."

The two neighbors smiled at each other, and she stepped aside to let him enter.


	2. Chapter 2

Stalking

Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry it's been so long since the first chapter (which actually needed to be reposted). I was having a lot of computer problems, but now I have a wonderful, brand new desktop delivered by the lovely people at Dell. So I will definitely have more updates, more frequently. Please read and review!

Nick followed Emma into the kitchen of her townhouse, exactly similar in layout to his. _Gotta__ love cookie cutter subdivisions…_

Hers, however, was much more like a home, with pictures and toys all over, slightly messy – lived in. His wouldn't look like that even after he was all unpacked. You needed a family to have a home like that.

He leaned against the door, watching her open the fridge, feeling a pang of longing he didn't want to analyze too closely.

She pulled out the pitcher and reached into the dishwasher for freshly clean glasses. When she turned and saw him still standing there, she smiled, laughing nervously, knowing he had been watching her.

A shy smile graced Nick's mouth as he glanced down, hiding the slight blush at being caught.

"So, since you have co-workers to help you move, I take it you're not new to Vegas?"

"No, I moved here a couple years ago."

"From Texas, based on the accent."

"Dallas. And you're from out East."

"Originally. Most recently, Lisa and I lived in Los Angeles. We moved here just a couple weeks ago."

"How do you like Vegas so far?" Nick asked as he reached for his glass of lemonade, draining it three-quarters of the way.

Emma smiled and poured him some more.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. You must be thirsty," she took a sip from her own glass. "Uh. I don't know. The neighborhood's okay, and Lisa's school is great, but I still feel guilty for bringing my daughter to a place like this."

"If you stay away from the strip, it's not that bad of a place."

"I know – it's irrational."

Nick chuckled. "You know, before I came here, I didn't think people actually _lived_ in Las Vegas.

"I know!" They both laughed, caught each other's eyes, looked quickly away and took sips to cover up the confusion.

"So did you come to America's Playground for a job or…?"

"Yep. I work for the LVPD."

"A cop?" Nick was a little confused about the undertone of fear in her voice at that word. He knew that most people were uncomfortable around police officers, but her fear had a different ring to it.

"Kind of. I'm in criminalistics – I collect and analyze evidence."

"Like all those Discovery Channel shows?"

Nick laughed and nodded.

"I used to be a cop, back in Texas. But I just needed a change."

"I can relate to that."

"Oh? What did you do before coming here?"

"Uh…" Emma cleared her throat, standing up to put her cup in the sink. "I worked in the business/ accounting office of my friend's company. Here, I'm doing basically the same thing for Caesar's Palace."

"So I guess my earlier advice to stay away from the Strip is going to be kind of hard to follow."

"Yeah…oh, well."

They fell silent for a few seconds, unsure of what to say next. Nick picked up the cup and drank slowly, wanting to have an excuse to stay, even for a few more minutes.

"Uh…. Other than lemonade, there's not really anything else I can offer you. Have you eaten yet?"

"No, actually."

"I told Lisa we could order pizza since I haven't gone grocery shopping. You're welcome to join us."

"Sure…thanks." Nick flashed his trademark grin at Emma, who felt a rush go through her that she hadn't felt for a long, long time. And it scared her….for more than one reason.

* * *

Nick could hardly concentrate on the scene the next afternoon – not because he was tired, which he was, but because he kept laughing or smiling, depending on which memory from the night before crossed his mind. He, Emma and Lisa had finished Aladdin over Pizza Hut delivery and then started playing Clue until Lisa could hardly keep her eyes open.

The entire game Emma had been teasing him, saying he should be able to guess who the "killer" was right away – after all a board game couldn't be as hard as a real crime. So, in an effort to "preserve his pride," he took to describing what he would do if he was the one investigating Miss Scarlet, Professor Plum and the rest. How he would bag the bloody knife, how he would dust the candlestick for prints. Lisa was rolling around on the floor laughing, and Nick himself hadn't laughed that much in a long time. He even was able to spend a whole night without once thinking about Nigel Crane.

After Lisa was tucked in and sound asleep, Nick and Emma plugged in an adult movie but instead spent the next two hours talking. Never about anything big or serious, just some of his interesting case, some of her stories of Lisa's childhood, some of their stories about their own childhoods.

All in all, it was an amazing night, and Nick knew he was more than a little falling for the girl next door. The only problem was, her stories – except for those about Lisa - were just a little too…emotionless. Like she was talking about the highlights of a stranger's life.

Or, thought the CSI part of Nick's brain, like she was lying.

Nick shook his head, clearing from it such a stupid thought. Why would someone lie about stuff like that? And why would he think, if anyone could, that person would be Emma? He wondered if it wasn't some sort of defense mechanism his mind was orchestrating, thinking it would be better and easier to remain alone rather than subject someone else to his problems.

Maybe he had just seen too much in his job to believe that anyone actually still told the truth.

"Ni-ick?"

He jerked his head toward Catherine, nearly dropping his flashlight in the process."

"What's up? I called your name about three times."

"Uh, sorry, Cath. Just thinking about things."

She furrowed her brow at him, obviously trying to decide if she should push it. Although she didn't shrug, Nick could tell she did the mental equivalent but only answered with an "okay."

"You got anything interesting?"

"Not really… this scene is _clean_."

"I know. Hardly any obvious evidence, shooter kills the guy straight in the forehead without appearing to hesitate. Not to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but doesn't this seem almost like a professional job?"

Nick laughed and glanced over at her. "I was actually thinking the same thing."

"Good, maybe the D.A. won't laugh us out of his office if that's what we both think."

"Cath, we're a long ways away from the D.A. on this one. He doesn't exactly prosecute crimes with no suspects."

"Nick, there are _always_ suspects – you just have to know where to look."

"Okay, thanks Grissom."

"Please, it's sensei."

Nick chuckled, his mind already drifting away from the conversation as a flash of color caught his eye. Stepping carefully toward the object, he knelt down to pick it up. A bright yellow index card, completely blank.

* * *

"Well, Cath. If this was a professional hit, I might have just found the calling card … literally."

Nick sat at the computer, skimming through federal reports of similar M.O.s. One grabbed his interest and he read more thoroughly, highlighting it as a possibility. He was just about to start searching again when a knock on the door interrupted him. Catherine was standing there with a bemused expression on her face, next to what was obviously a Fed, complete with dark suit, white shirt, sunglasses – even indoors – and the cookie cutter haircut.

"No need to look for the Feds, Nicky, the Feds found us. Agent Joe Henner, this is Nick Stokes. Nick, Agent Henner heard through the grapevine about our calling card guy and thinks he knows who did it."

The agent stepped forward to shake Nick's hand, then turned to address both of them. "It is probably the work of a relatively new hired killer, out trying to make a name for herself."

"Herself?"

"Unusual, I know. But we do think it's a woman based on profiling and an eyewitness at the last murder – who was fortunately not discovered by the assassin. This killer has already hit a Boston man, leaving his wife and child alone in the world, and more recently a police officer in Los Angeles. I'm hoping we'll be able to help each other out on this one."

Nick and Catherine shared an amused glance – they knew what that meant when a Fed said it: they'd do all the work, he'd take all the glory.

"To start off with, here's a sketch described by the eye witness."

Catherine leaned over to look at the drawing Agent Henner held out.

"Hmmm…"

Nick held out his hand to grab the sketch from the agent, turning it right side up before fully glancing at it. But when he did, his stomach plummeted.

_Emma…_

A/N Part 2: I know, really short chapter – but that's a good place to stop it, don't you think? MWA HA HA HA HA


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